Page 13 of Wild Temple
“What will it be?” the barista asked with a smile when I reached the counter.
I displayed Isabella’s image on my phone. “Looking for her. Has she been in recently?”
The dark-haired man was in his late 30s with well-sunned skin. He studied the image for a moment. “Yes. She was in here last week. Came in almost every day and worked on her laptop. Sometimes in the morning. Sometimes at night. Always ordered the same thing.”
Isabella knew better than to keep the same schedule, but maybe she liked the coffee.
“That was the last time you saw her?”
He nodded. “Yes. I think so. People come and go. She was nice and tipped well.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Briefly.”
“What did you talk about?”
“I don’t really remember. The usual stuff.” The barista thought for a moment.
“Hey, buddy. You gonna order coffee or what?” thedouchebag behind me said, growing impatient. He was a young American in his late 20s.
I gave him a dirty look, then stepped aside and told the barista to attend to him while we continued our conversation.
The douchebag studied the menu on the wall, then ordered.
The barista said, “You know, she did ask about the Twin Sisters. If I recall, she was looking for something less touristy. It’s farther away but worth the journey. Legend has it, the water is healing.” He shook his head. “But that’s just a myth.”
“Myth?”
“People think it’s downstream of Pura Jiva.”
“Now that’s a myth,” the douchebag said.
“What’s Pura Jiva?” I asked.
“Dude, don’t get scammed. We paid this clown a ton of money to take us to thelost temple,” he said in air quotes. “This guy just led us around in circles in the jungle, sweating our asses off. Thetemplewas just a few rock formations with carvings. Total bullshit. No magic spring. Nothing. The guy took off and left us there. We had to find our way back. My girlfriend was totally freaked out.” His face reddened as he relived the anger. “Then I find out the place doesn’t really exist. It’s all BS. Just some scam they pull on tourists.” Then he added, “And don’t drink that fake water they sell on the street.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” I said.
“Anytime, bro.” He paid the barista, took his coffee, and left.
The barista glanced around, then said in a whisper, “The lost temple is real. But the jungle keeps her secret well. The sacred site remains hidden. Only the worthy shall find the way, and the unworthy will perish. The path is treacherous. The guardians protect it. It is unwise to anger the spirits. If your friend set out to find Pura Jiva, she may be in grave danger.”
7
It sounded like a load of crap to me. A mythic temple hidden in the jungle for eons without discovery? Certainly the kind of narrative that gets perpetuated to dupe unsuspecting tourists. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed plausible. That jungle was so dense and thick you wouldn’t be able to see an ancient temple from an aerial view or a satellite. Centuries of overgrowth would have reclaimed the sacred site. If it was built into a mountain or shrouded by natural features, it may very well remain hidden for centuries.
Maybe Isabella had gone off on some wild quest.
But it didn’t seem likely.
I returned to the hotel and dialed Talia. She answered after a few rings. I filled her in on everything I had learned so far. “Did Isabella mention anything to you about Pura Jiva?”
“No. Not that I recall.” She paused. “You said you found her laptop in her hotel room. Do you still have access to that?”
“Yes.”
“We can try to hack into it and see what she was working on. Knowing Isabella, the encryption is impenetrable. But it’s worth a shot.”
